Thursday, June 26, 2014

While I was writing on a deadline for Mount Holyoke this morning I had a distraction: I kept looking at the spot on my other arm and wondering if it needs to be dealt with.

I took a picture that I was going to send to my dermatologist, but after I sent her the last one, she said it looked OK when I saw that it really wasn't, which is why I took me and my right arm to her.

I am not going to post this or any other gross photo because I don't think it's necessary and also when other people do it I have to hold my hand over the photo even though they are probably just trying to be realistic.

The doctor who did my Mohs surgery had looked at the spot on my left arm and said it looked OK, but my squamous-cell radar is reading otherwise. I'm not sure why I didn't ask the doctor who biopsied the spot on my right arm a week ago to look at my left arm except that I thought it was OK, but now that the biopsy on the right arm was positive, I am changing my mind.

I called my fiend Bernarda, the office manager who always gets me in, and asked if she could do it again. I know she is not a scheduler so on the voice message I apologized and said I hoped she wasn't sick of me. But she can at least hold the smooth rock I gave her last time with the word Breathe on it. I think I need one for myself.

In the past I have tried to get a dermatology appointment locally and have been told sure, we'll see you in a couple of months. It's easier to go to Boston, where they know me and will get me in.

Speaking of gross, here's an idea: I could mail my left arm in and save myself the trouble although then I'd have some other even bigger problem.

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About Me

On Jan. 31, 2009, I had a rare fourth bone marrow transplant. This is my story of running into a diagnosis of Acute Myeloid Leukemia, or AML, in 2003 after feeling unusually winded while running a 10K race. It is a story of falling down and getting up and falling down and getting up many times over, with two relapses, life-threatening complications, life-long side effects... and a determination to keep moving. I am a freelance writer with a background in daily journalism. I have three children, one Labrador retriever and a debt of gratitude to my bone marrow donor. I have written versions of the story for The New York Times, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Espn.com, Marie Claire and Vice Media. I started the blog in 2008 with one story and found that I had many more to tell.